


Overglorified Babysitter

by Hubbleablubble



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Injury, Gen, RUH ROH THERE'S ANGST?? NOW, i guess? its canon adjacent if you know what i mean, this is silly, warning: everyone is probably OOC oops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2019-12-30 01:31:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18305438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hubbleablubble/pseuds/Hubbleablubble
Summary: Through a combination of the nebulous works of fate, some sort of cosmic retribution, and a posse of terrible coworkers, the task had fallen on Saïx' shoulders.





	1. Young Xehanort

**Author's Note:**

> Me, reading Nomura's interview: Young Xehanort is NOT 18.  
> Me, 18, looking in the mirror: Ah. I understand now.
> 
> Anyways it's wildly out of character for Saïx to be a babysitter of any sort, but it's also really funny so guess what. He has an army of asshole kids now.
> 
> Saïx made the terrible mistake of tolerating Young Xehanort one (1) time, so now he can't get rid of him.

Though their base of operations was the Keyblade Graveyard, it was woefully lacking in amenities.

 

This, of course, was not technically a problem for the Real Organization XIII. The weather was a constant, the day-night cycle bringing a predictable mash of heat and wind, with nary a raincloud in sight, thus roofs were optional. Food was scarce, but everyone had collectively decided to get meals off world, so a kitchen was unnecessary. Most members of the Organization were either uncaring of their housing situation, or off on missions elsewhere.

 

Saïx was neither. So instead, he spent his time in the Castle That Never Was.

 

It was a perfect situation. He would return to their base when needed, took care of the small tasks the higher-ups gave to him, delegated the bigger ones, and travel to other worlds periodically to check on their status. Otherwise, he would content himself with the well stocked castle, wonderfully quiet and empty. Even better, there was almost nobody who knew he was there.

 

_Emphasis on ‘almost’,_ Saïx thought, just as the younger Xehanort barged into his room.

 

This was not an uncommon occurrence. For whatever reason, it seemed that the boy had imprinted on Saïx, like a strange parody of a duckling. It seemed that every opportunity he got, he was silently trailing after Saïx, or asking his opinion on some project or theory or other. Saïx knew that he should probably have been flattered at his interest, but, truth be told, it was more annoying than anything. He should have felt guilty for it, but he was eternally grateful that the boy’s workload was heavy enough that these occurrences weren't a constant.

 

Saïx sighed and began to pour Xehanort a cup of tea, glad that he’d had the foresight to make a brew the boy was amenable to. It was evident that he was furious, pacing around and mumbling, hands clenched into fists. Saïx held up the cup in offering, and Xehanort took it without a word, pulling up the extra chair—which the boy had dragged here back when he’d discovered Saïx’ hiding spot—to sit next to him at his desk.

 

“Saïx,” he hissed as he sat down, steam from the tea curling around his face, “Did you know that _over half_ of the Organization is of the opinion that I am twelve?”

 

A new thing he was eternally grateful for was the fact that he hadn't been drinking tea when Xehanort said that. Regardless, he had to take a moment to make sure none of his surprise showed.

 

“Is that so?” he said, his voice impressively steady.

 

“Yes!” Xehanort threw his free hand into the the air, fury palpable. “It’s—ridiculous! How could they mistake me for a twelve year old! _I’m eighteen!_ ”

 

Xehanort ranted on and on about the subject, long enough that his tea no longer steamed. He utterly disparaged every single one of the members in question, sparing no insult in his furious tirade.

 

“Even—even Xemnas! Xemnas is technically _directly_ me!”

 

“Utterly deplorable.” Saïx shoved every smart remark about aging gracefully to the back of his mind, self preservation instincts strong today.

 

“ _Exactly!_ I’m glad at least _you_ understand,” finally, he took a sip of his his tea, and made a face at it.

 

“I can brew another cup, if it is unsatisfactory.”

 

“No,” the boy waved him away, moving to stand. “It’s just cold, is all. I’ll just go down to the kitchens to reheat it. I’ll be right back,”

 

“There is also leftover pasta down there, if you would like some,”

 

Xehanort nodded and walked out the door, boots clicking against the marble floor.

 

Saïx waited until he was definitely out of hearing range before he began laughing, harder than he had in over a decade.


	2. Vanitas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saïx and Vanitas have some food, and Saïx conducts an experiment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry April Fools! Here's an emoticon, as a gift: (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
> 
> I like the thought of Saïx and Vanitas getting along mainly because they don't really know anything about each other.
> 
> aka let's put two of my favourite characters together and make them banter  
> aka how do you write Vanitas. I want to make him mean but I can't. I'm having more fun just making him a brat.

“Did you know that Xehanort is eighteen?”

 

“ _What?_ ” Vanitas said, nearly dropping his box. “Like, the little one?”

 

“No, the one with the goatee,” Saïx snorted as he sat on the roof, holding his small box of salad steady in his hands. “Yes, the little one. I’ll admit, I was completely convinced he was just an incredibly tall preteen, but apparently that is not the case.”

 

“Holy _shit,_ ” Vanitas laughed as he slumped next to Saïx, staring gleefully down at the lights in Twilight Town. “I thought he was like, fourteen at most.”

 

“Yes. Considering his older self, I’d wager that he needed that bad facial hair and surgery to treat his grievous case of baby face. The attitude adjustment is still pending.”

 

Vanitas howled, and Saïx had to marvel at the fact that this was another thing that had become halfway normal. He didn’t _quite_ know who Vanitas was, other than that he was the old apprentice to Xehanort who could make monsters on a whim, and also so happened to look exactly like Sora’s evil twin. Regardless, he’d been asked to explain everything to him and train him (though Saïx doubted he actually needed it) for the final battle. A task that everyone else was apparently loathe to commit to. Ergo, it fell on his shoulders.

 

Getting along with Vanitas was actually quite easy, once he’d realized that Vanitas was a little like him as a teenager. Just don’t pry, don’t belittle, and don’t sugarcoat the truth. The biggest thing past that was dealing with the insults, and even those seemed to diminish day by day. It helped that Vanitas enjoyed the occasional sarcastic remarks of his own. Thus, they’d built up a strange sort of camaraderie.

 

When this had turned into getting food at Twilight Town every Friday, he wasn't sure.

 

“So what, did you just…ask him, or something?”

 

“On the contrary. He ranted about it unprompted for ten minutes straight. I was surprised he could go that long without breath,” Saïx watched as Vanitas opened his box, revealing a large piece of chocolate cake. He scowled and broke open his own container of salad.

 

“You know, Vanitas, I could buy you more than one thing, other than just cake. Perhaps some fruit. Vegetables. A steak, even.” Though the bistro was expensive, Saïx had more than enough money squirrelled away that he could use for things such as this. Especially since he doubted Vanitas ate anything else.

 

“I’m not eating your fucking rabbit food.”

 

“Steak is not rabbit food. It is literally the opposite of rabbit food.”

 

“Dog food, then. That’s why you eat it,” Vanitas stuck his tongue out, before shoving a forkful of cake in his mouth.

 

Saïx huffed and poked at his own food, unwilling to let it go. “If we’re going that route, I would argue that it is werewolf food.”

 

“Nah,” Vanitas said “That would imply you’re kind of cool. You just get moon rabies sometimes.”

 

“I see,” his tone was wry, and when he glanced to the side, he could see Vanitas trying to hide a smile. “My opponents must beware, then, lest they catch ‘moon rabies’ as well.”

 

Their conversation quickly devolved into a comfortable silence as they continued to eat. The eternal sunset bathed the world in orange light, peaceful and beautiful, and he had to wonder whether this was what Axel felt when he’d loiter here in the past.

 

His train of thought was interrupted when Vanitas made a low sound of annoyance. Saïx looked just in time to see him shove one of his monsters off his lap.

 

The thing stumbled and twitched, peering up at them. It was one of the little ones—the ones that looked like an incredibly strange, blue cat. At Vanitas’ irritation, it scurried over to Saïx and crawled into his lap instead.

 

This had happened enough times by now that neither of them paid it much mind. Vanitas didn’t care much that Saïx let them perch on him, as he didn't pet them like some _other_ members of the Organization. He still remembered the fierce, angry scratches on Demyx’ arms from when he’d tried, and had seen how twitchy Vanitas got when someone did so, thus Saïx refrained.

 

Now, that isn’t to say he wasn't curious. In fact, had a hypotheses about it, thoughts whirling around in his mind. Though he’d only been an apprentice at Radiant Garden for a short time, he remembered more than enough scientific theory to know his next step.

 

Sneaking a look at Vanitas and finding him distracted, Saïx plucked a cherry tomato from his salad and held it in front of the monster’s face.

 

It looked at the offering with a surprising intensity, for a long enough time that Saïx began to doubt himself. In fact, now that he thought more in depth about it, he wasn't even sure the creature _had_ a mouth. He ran the risk of upsetting his charge doing this as well.

 

Just as he was about to accept defeat and began retracting his hand, it darted forward and snatched the tomato, razor sharp teeth barely grazing his fingers.

 

Vanitas jolted across from him and made a strange choked sound, whipping around to face him again.

 

“What—What was _that!?_ ”

 

“This little creature just ate one of my tomatoes.” He showed one of the fruits to Vanitas for further clarification, and saw his eyes light up with _something_ at the sight.

 

Vanitas then scowled, looking rather like a puffed up cat. “Well, kick it off. Unless you want it to keep stealing them, or whatever. I don’t care.”

 

Saïx simply hummed and continued eating, the monster curling up further on his lap.

 

He didn't miss the fact that each time he looked away, another red tomato vanished from his box, even though the creature didn't move once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Unversed probably don't need to eat like, actual food, but do I care? No. (I'm sorry lore people don't kill me)
> 
> Vanitas likes tomatoes now. Only partly because they're red and fit with his Aesthetic. Surprise Vanitas, you're going to eat healthy food and you're going to LIKE IT.


	3. Replica Riku

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saïx should have known better than to have so much faith in Xigbar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating! It's finals season and you know how that is
> 
> If I didn't know how to write Vanitas I DEFINITELY don't know how to write Repliku, forgive me please I have a less-than-half baked picture of Repliku in my head
> 
> Also WARNING BEWARE: There is blood and injury in this chapter!

Xigbar had been tasked to watch the Riku Replica, which Saïx could have told them was doomed from the start. Xigbar, after all, was the textbook definition of shifty and irresponsible. Sure enough, from his own observations, Xigbar’s interactions with the replica seemed to be limited to taunting him, shooting at him (‘training’, apparently), and then teleporting off to who-knows-where. He didn't seem to realize that the child needed more supervision than that.

 

Saïx considered himself lucky to have gotten Vanitas as a charge, in that regard. He was remarkably self-sufficient, and by a mutual agreement, they mostly interacted on a training schedule (and their Friday escapades). That wasn't to say that Vanitas didn't pop in occasionally, especially now that his introduction to real food led him to the Castle That Never Was’ kitchen more and more often, but Vanitas was quite content finding his own accommodation.

 

Still, Saïx did not approve of Xigbar’s methods. For the most part, he tried not to overly concern himself with it. Repliku, as Vanitas had taken to calling him, and Xigbar seemed to have a relationship free of resentment, so Saïx reasoned that Xigbar must have been doing more behind the scenes than what he could see.

 

Saïx should have known better than to have so much faith in _Xigbar_.

 

It was a late night, a full moon, and Saïx was fraught with restlessness. He’d twisted and turned in his bed, trying to find sleep, before he’d deemed it useless, and instead decided to take a walk in the Keyblade Graveyard, away from the harsh neon of the World That Never Was.

 

As soon as he stepped out of the Dark Corridor, the cold hit him like a freight train. He always forgot just how frigid it could get in a desert at night, and was glad he’d decided to room in the Castle. He walked on nonetheless, soaking in the moonlight and looking occasionally to the sky.

 

Soon, that endless expanse would possibly be filled with Kingdom Hearts, drowning out the stars with its light. Though he was ultimately opposed to their ridiculous plan, even though he would never see it even if Xehanort did manage summon it, he still had to wonder whether the real Kingdom Hearts would hold the same beauty as the fake one. Whether its voice wouldn't be tinged with hollowness when it called out to him.

 

He shook himself and continued on, passing by the ruined landscape and numerous corpses of keyblades, littered here and there. He was nearly ready to return to the Castle, not from expending his energy but rather to the cold, when he heard it.

 

A faint whimper, carried to him by the breeze.

 

Plan to return forgotten, he stalked toward the noise, ready to summon Lunatic at any moment. He found himself approaching an outcropping of rock, where the sound of pained moans seemed to be coming from.

 

Saïx rounded the corner and came upon the sight of a crumpled form with silver hair, curled up against the chill, in a small pool of blood.

 

He crossed the distance in a flash, pulling the boy up into a sitting position and leaning him against the walls of the outcropping. Repliku gasped and struggled out his grip, leaning back and snarling at him.

 

“Stop—Leave me alone! It’s f-fine, it doesn't even hurt, go away—“

 

“It is not _fine_. Let me see your wound.” Saïx growled back, anger burning hot in his chest. Where was Xigbar? How could he be so negligent to—

 

The replica quickly pushed off his cloak and brandished his shoulder, and _oh_ —

 

It was deep, still bleeding in rivulets down his arm. Fresh, most definitely from today, and most importantly—

 

It was definitely from a bullet.

 

And when Saïx looked further at his arms, he could see other, older open gashes just like it.

 

Saïx finally noticed the way his vision was tunnelling, tinted yellow at the edges, as well as the fear in Repliku’s eyes. He cursed himself, and reigned the fury in hard, pulling himself from the edge of Berserk.

 

“I apologize,” Saïx said quietly, leaning back, ashamed at his lack of control. “I should not have…lost myself. I have no excuse. I am not angry at you. Was this-did Xigbar do this to you?”

 

The boy hesitated before nodding, and Saïx sucked in a harsh breath. “Y-yeah. It was my fault. I was too slow.”

 

There were many things Saïx wished to say to that. He wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault. He wanted to say that he was probably more than fast enough. He wanted to say that Xigbar was a spineless coward for hitting a child he was _supposed to be training_ with a _fucking_ _gun,_ and not even having the decency to treat his wounds afterwards.

 

(Rich coming from him, he thought, considering his track record.)

 

Instead, he said “Stay here. Do not move, and keep pressure your shoulder. I will be right back.”

 

He portaled back to the Castle and sunk against the wall, trying to regain his composure. He almost wished Xigbar would walk in there now, so he could strangle the living daylights out of him.

 

_Stop it. You have different priorities right now,_ he thought, and opened a Dark Corridor directly to Vexen’s laboratory. If he was correct, there would be a first aid kit right next to the main door.

 

Having quickly found the well stocked first aid kit, and quietly vowing to thank Vexen for his preparedness, Saïx considered what else he would need. He remembered the cold of the Keyblade Graveyard, and quickly travelled to Demyx’ room, going to rummage around around his closet for the electric space heater that the sitarist used to bring along on missions (and thought Saïx didn't know about).

 

Having found it, Saïx considered once more, and then ripped the comforters and pillows off of Demyx’ long abandoned bed. Satisfied with his haul, Saïx quickly returned to the Badlands.

 

Repliku was in the same spot he’d left him, holding on tightly to his shoulder. At his return, he looked curiously at the large pile in the Nobody’s hands.

 

Saïx promptly set down the heater and turned it on, instantly relieved at the warmth. The boy, he noticed, immediately crowded closer to it, and he had to shove his fury at Xigbar down again lest he risk losing control.

 

He broke open the first aid kit and silently thanked Kingdom Hearts that he’d learned how to use the assorted items, way back when he was still Isa. He took out the disinfectant and a rag, before turning back to Repliku.

 

“I will warn you,” he said, pouring some out onto the cloth “That this will hurt. But if I do not do this, it may be become infected and hurt ten times worse.”

 

The boy nodded his head, and grit his teeth when Saïx applied it, staying impressively still the whole time. 

 

If only he could cast a healing spell of some sort. All of a sudden, he regretted not having properly honed his magic. He relied mostly on his raw, unfiltered magic, and while it may have been powerful and useful in a fight, he was clueless in how to cast something so simple as Cura.

 

He could try anyways, he realized.

 

Saïx’ hand hovered around the gash, and he willed it to _heal_ , willed the moon to come to his aid. Wisps of light curled around his fingers, and he could feel it heed his call.

 

Miraculously, it seemed to work. The edges of the wound started to knit together, and even the numerous older marks faded from ugly blacks and reds to a more muted pink.

 

He stopped when he began feeling too drained, which happened far too quickly for his tastes. The spell was less effective than he would have liked as well, but the boy still gasped in awe.

 

“You can do that?” Repliku asked, as Saïx started to unravel the gauze.

 

“Apparently,” he said, “It is as much a shock to me as it is you. It didn't heal wholly, so I’ll have to treat the rest manually.”

 

They spent the next stretch of time in silence, huddled around the heater as he dressed the rest of his wounds. Soon, he found himself wrapping the stolen comforters around the boy, who looked confused at his actions.

 

“I am assuming you do not have bedding?”

 

“No, but my cloak—“

 

“Is not sufficient in this weather, especially when it is riddled with bullet holes. I am going to repair it. You, sleep.”

 

Apparently that was good enough for the boy, since he soon began to doze off, huddled close to Saïx and the heater. 

 

Saïx fished around his pockets for the sewing kit he kept for cases such as these. In the early days of the Organization, him and Vexen had been the only ones with any experience with sewing. Thus he, being lower on the chain of command back then, was given the task to repair members’ coats when they were damaged. He’d hated it as much as he could at the time, but now that he wasn't forced to do it every night, he was glad he had the skill.

 

It took about an hour of work, but soon enough the coat was looking good as new. He carefully folded it and placed it beside the boy, who startled awake at his movement.

 

“What are you—oh. My coat.”

 

“Yes, it should be all fixed now.” Saïx absently patted the aforementioned cloak, and took a moment to ponder his next words.

 

“It is not conductive to your training to constantly be forced into ranged distance. You are a melee fighter, after all,” He sighed and faced Repliku.

 

“If you so wish, you may join my training sessions with Vanitas. I can tell you what times—“

 

“I know when you train,” Repliku said, indignant, before his mind seemed to catch up with him. “Wait, really? You’d let me?”

 

“Yes,” Saïx pushed himself off the ground, dusting off his hands as he went. “You are also welcome to a room in the Castle That Never Was. There is plenty of room, and the accommodations are better than they are here. I’d imagine they’re less cold.”

 

“I’ll keep it in mind,” the boy seemed to chew on his words for a moment, before muttering “Thanks,”

 

Saïx hummed, and stepped into a Dark Corridor.

 

* * *

 

 

It had been scarcely a week when Saïx walked out of his room to see a familiar form curled up in his doorway.

 

They both startled, and Repliku shot up, looking as if he’d already been scorned.

 

“The heater broke,” the boy blurted out. “And you said I could stay here.”

 

“That I did,” Saïx looked pointedly at the bundle of sheets on the floor, “Though I believe I offered a room,”

 

The sullen look on Repliku's face made him backpedal. “It is of no consequence,”

 

They stood for a moment, locked in a strange stalemate. It wasn't long before the silence was broken by a loud crash downstairs, followed by a colourful array of curses echoing through the corridors.

 

“It seems Vanitas has arrived,” Saïx mused, and began to walk down the hall. He paused, noticing Repliku hanging behind. “You may join us for breakfast, if you are amenable.”

 

Strangely enough, the sound of footsteps catching up to him almost made him smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: haha Repliku is part of the Babysat Brigade and is trying to guard Saïx' doorway lol  
> My brain + all my friends: Repliku is dead. He's super duper dead. Gone forever.  
> Me: D:
> 
> So I'm sad now.
> 
> In this chapter I kind of tried to emphasize that, though Saïx does happen to take care of these kiddos, he also doesn't really. Know how to go about it. aka: You don't just leave a kid in the desert gdi Saïx!

**Author's Note:**

> Whats up, I don't know anything about Kingdom Hearts and I haven't written fanfiction in a million years


End file.
